Do You Know What it Feels like
by ajremix
Summary: IDW 'verse. Mad scientists, gender bending and creating one's own downfall. An exercise in understanding Spotlight Arcee.
1. Prologue

An exercise in trying to understand Spotlight: Arcee, gender-roles from an outside perspective and the fact that Jhiaxus's reasoning being 'just to see if he could' is wonderfully fucked up. The only thing I really have any problem with in regards to this is how incredibly OLD it means Arcee is. After all, no one knew who Galvatron was in Spotlight: Galvatron, despite his going aboard the original Ark and Ark itself being a near forgotten relic. And since Jhiaxus disappeared with Ark and Arcee was altered by him… I'm still trying to wrap my brain around how exactly she got around all those countless years to only be tracked and captured by Ultra Magnus recently (but if IDW can mess around with times and age, so can I). Some ideas had been borrowed from Dreamwave. By the way, it's harder to remember to write Arcee as 'he' than I thought it would be…

Also it's become obvious that I can no longer do one-shot long fics. Recently every time I've tried, it sprawled into a multi-parter. Curses.

Special thanks to Wills for being my beta and Cafei for prodding me to finish this.

* * *

Do You Know What it Feels like  
Prologue

_"Girls can wear jeans and cut their hair short, wear shirts and boots, because it's okay to be a boy, but for a boy to look like a girl is degrading, because you think that being a girl is degrading. But secretly you'd love to know what it's like, wouldn't you? What it feels like for a girl?"_

-Charlotte Gainsbourg, The Cement Garden

* * *

"Sir, I am not certain about this… manifesto."

"'Manifesto' is such a strong word, Thunderwing. I would call it more theoretical rhetoric or perhaps even a tentative credo. But manifesto it is not."

"Still. I am not sure I agree with it."

The rapid fire clicks of keys and beeps as data flew across the screen were overlaid by a deep, humored chuckle. "Why would you need to agree with it?"

"But if Prime-"

"Nova is a passionate mech, but he has little regard for much else."

"So then," the assistant asked slowly- though he was one of the more brilliant minds to have been sparked, his mentor always left him reeling like a fledgling, "you do not agree, either?"

"Agree or disagree, it is of no concern to me."

"If Nova Prime asks your assistance in this endeavor…?"

"Then he shall be given it. It is, after all, my duty."

"But Jhiaxus, sir. This… 'credo' is calling for the extinction of all biological races-"

"In order to pave way for an expansion of our own, yes. I am aware of what it says." The clattering abruptly halted and for several nano-klicks the stream of data beeped until it finally caught up with all that had been inputted into it. "Do you find this message to be so reprehensible, Thunderwing?"

He regarded his young assistant with cruelly distant optics, a look usually reserved for the experiments that lay spread across the lab tables. Thunderwing had seen it many times and shuddered whenever it was turned on him. Jhiaxus was no passionate mech and found no joy even in his own work but it was a contentment, and one he found satisfactorily enough to continue his work. So long as they remained useful, Jhiaxus was willing to tolerate many things, his assistant included.

Cautiously, with as much care as he would in choosing a tool with which to make an incision – knowing his mentor's faith in his competence hung in the balance – Thurnderwing picked at his words. "I just do not understand Nova Prime's logic in regards to his possible intentions, sir. It is implied that our right to conquer and destroy is based on the idea that biological beings are inferior to Cybertronians. While I do not argue that we are by far the most technologically advance race that I am aware of, we are not without our own flaws and that alone begs to question the idea that our ability to make decisions is sound enough to eradicate entire races."

The disinterested edge disappeared from Jhiaxus's expression, softening into a thoughtful consideration. Jhiaxus was a brilliant- albeit misunderstood –mind and while he cared not for those unable to comprehend the difference between opinion and objective fact, his want of discovering made him charitable to those he deemed worthy of his vast knowledge.

"All creatures with free sentience are flawed." He said mildly. "There is no possibility for any being to be infallible in a universe so chaotic and susceptible to random chance. But it isn't the fact that we have more superior foresight than others that allows Nova to believe in these somewhat deluded ideals of his." Jhiaxus turned back to the monitor, though he merely used one hand to continue with his work.

"We are a strong race, more durable, adaptable and open to new technologies. Most other biological beings are content in dedicating their lives to their 'traditions'. It is merely a propagandist word to dress up obsolete thinking as 'natural'. For example," Jhiaxus waved his free hand, "all organic civilizations have a gender bias where more than one is present. 93 of these races can't survive without all their other genders, but one is always deemed superior to the others- mainly in terms of size and physical strength. They're unable to overcome this prejudice despite the fact that it is a useless means of segregation. Despite any physical capabilities the fact is they need each other or they'll die out."

"But sir, we are not without our own prejudices."

"Ah, but deep space vessels have little need for building constructors. It is very possible for one type to not meet another and arguably lead just as useful a life."

This example didn't seem to want to make sense to Thunderwing. "Prejudice is an imaginary distinction of importance between two mostly similar beings. I'm sorry, sir, but I still don't understand."

"The difference between our prejudice and other races' is the fact that we are all prejudice against each other while they push theirs in one direction. All aerial constructs believe themselves superior to all others. Same as fixed wing against helos, or prop wings or hover vehicles. These other categories, in turn, believe themselves to be the superior one. In organic culture, however, anyone who is not of the ideal is inferior. Culture, appearance, gender- anything. This thought is so ingrained that it's not just the ones deeming themselves superior that believes it, but also those they oppress as well. They'll degrade themselves, objectify themselves, pander to this view that they are less than they are because that is how they were taught to look at themselves." He scoffed, as if it were some jolly, sick joke. "Is that not a pitiful enough existence, Thunderwing, to allow someone with more vision and tolerance the wish to eradicate them?"

The assistant shifted quietly, the only sound a hesitant hum from his engines. "I apologize for my apparent ignorance, Jhiaxus sir," the smaller mech turned enough to glare impatiently, his optics daring Thunderwing to continue arguing a subject he already deemed as closed, "but are we not looking at this as a race unaccustomed to such challenges? If we had the same variables as, say, gender bias, can we really say we would not react the same?"

The one-handed clatter froze in mid-input and Jhiaxus tilted his head to one side, a blank, shut-off look hanging on the edges of his faceplates. Thunderwing knew that look particularly well, knew some poor fool would be subjected to another of Jhiaxus's scientific fancies. Thunderwing wondered if the vague hesitance he felt stirring deep in his internals was the beginnings of 'guilt'.

"That is a well-made point. It's hardly a subjective response if there are no first-hand experiences with which to draw from."

"How do you propose to do that? How is it possible for a gender-less society such as our own to know what it is like to be segregated like that? We have no sexual organs with which to discriminate ourselves."

"No, we don't. But gender issues stem from much more than just sexual bias." He waved Thunderwing off, "Before you've finished for the day, get me the Security Force's newest roster of mechs. Perhaps one of them will suit my needs."


	2. Chapter 1

Do You Know What it Feels like  
Chapter 1

_"Girls can wear jeans and cut their hair short, wear shirts and boots, because it's okay to be a boy, but for a boy to look like a girl is degrading, because you think that being a girl is degrading. But secretly you'd love to know what it's like, wouldn't you? What it feels like for a girl?"_

-Charlotte Gainsbourg, The Cement Garden

* * *

Thunderwing met the newcomer at the main entrance of Jhiaxus's lab. Curtly he instructed the mech to follow him into the central lift where Thunderwing popped open a panel and coded in something his large shoulders blocked from view. It didn't take Thunderwing's companion long to realize he was being taken to a place that- if one's existence was limited to all that was marked on maps –didn't exist.

The young mech fidgeted. He was nearing the end of his fledgling years, had learned all his basic skills and probably would have a fairly promising future in the Autobot Security Force as field intel. He was old enough to have developed a sense of self but had yet to even be given his first upgrade, still small and slender with nothing more than his bare protoframe. Thunderwing couldn't recall his own days in a similar configuration, couldn't even remember what the rudimentary designs of a protoframe's alt mode looked like. He had long ago deemed the memories unimportant and deleted them in order to make room for more pressing data.

"Sir," the young mech asked with a voice like his stature- thin and tight with anticipation, "I'm not entirely certain why I was called here."

"You were called here because Jhiaxus believes you would be most useful helping him with a new project."

"What kind of project, exactly? I was under the impression I was going to be fitted with one of the new triplechanger transformation cogs."

Thunderwing barely held back from scoffing and instead smiled indulgently. "The triplechanger cogs will be predominantly for infantry units once it's been perfected. The Security Force has a full roster of volunteers for that particular piece of tech. Exactly what it is you will undergo I am not yet at liberty to say. But rest assured- if it is as successful as we hope, it will drastically change the way we categorize each branch of our race."

Such a simple, vague lie that Thunderwing had told every new subject as they came down this very lift and it worked now as well as it had every time prior. The small mech's optics brightened and he stood tall, practically thrumming with excitement as the lift finally slowed.

"You are permitted anywhere on sub-level 4." Thunderwing told him. The doors opened and the newcomer stepped out. Thunderwing didn't. "It will be some time before Jhiaxus calls to meet with you. I suggest you take that time to settle and acquaint yourself with the level. There are plenty of empty rooms for you to choose as your quarters."

Blatant hesitation at the thought of being left along in a strange new place gleamed dully behind his optics. "Is anyone else here?"

"There are a few other subjects. You may interact with them or not, as you choose. That's your decision to make." With a smile that wasn't meant to comfort, just to be there, Thunderwing said before the lift doors slid shut, "For now, welcome to your new home, Arcee."

* * *

It was several cycles before Arcee was finally called in to meet with Jhiaxus for the first time. The scientist was just as intimidating and distant and cold as Arcee had imagined and the young mech sat quietly as fluid samples were taken to be analyzed. For the most part Jhiaxus merely asked Arcee questions about some of the details regarding his construction and specialized skillsets he was programmed with. Just as precisely, Arcee answered each as best he could.

Until Jhiaxus finally asked, "You've found a room to serve as your new quarters, correct?"

"Yessir." It was the first empty room Arcee had come across. He wasn't looking for much. Doubted he'd even be down in the lab for too long anyway. He had his training to begin soon, after all.

"I suppose you explored your new surroundings a bit as well."

"I did look around a little, yessir."

"Did you come across anything you had questions about?" Cybertronians were curious by nature, many seemingly having trouble recognizing when to leave something alone. Jhiaxus didn't ask because he wanted to show off any of his work (though it was an added bonus) but because he recognized this curiosity was what made advancements and deemed encouraging it was the only way to further themselves.

Arcee hesitated, optics darkening momentarily. "I… I did see something rather odd…"

"Ask what you want. I'll answer as best I can." It wasn't as if there was anything dangerous or abhorrent on sub-level 4. It housed all those that would have the easiest time reintegrating with common society. The levels below, however, held much darker, dire creatures that could only be called 'abominations' out of kindness.

"There- I saw… these tiny mechs. They looked like any other Cybertronian but they were," Arcee brought his hands together, trying to pantomime their tiny stature, "they were so small!"

Jhiaxus smiled lightly to himself. "Ah, the Micromasters."

"Micromasters?"

"That was Thunderwing's naming convention." Jhiaxus thought it was a rather silly name that made little sense at all. "They're an attempt in energon conservation."

Arcee cocked his head to the side. "I was not aware there was an energon shortage."

"There isn't. This is more of a safety measure. If it should come to pass, we now have the technology to deal with it instead of struggling with both the shortage and finding a solution."

"The construction plans for Minibots was just recently approved, though. Would they begin construction on Micromasters so soon?"

Jhiaxus moved behind Arcee, opening up a panel along his helmet and plugging in some strange device the young mech couldn't identify. "They weren't created, they were transferred."

Arcee's optics widened. "Transferred?"

"They were all once full-sized mechs."

When Arcee tried to turn around, Jhiaxus made a sharp, threatening noise, keeping him still. "They really are mechs? Fully functioning mechs?"

"Yes." This time Jhiaxus's reply came out somewhat terse, annoyed that Arcee didn't seem capable of understanding such a simple concept. "Their bodies and internal functions were reconstructed into smaller versions. Asides from physical ability stemming from the change in size and mass, they are nearly as fully capable as they were before the change."

"To be able to fit an entire cranial unit into such a small feature. With all that information and intricate workings-" Jhiaxus couldn't see it, but he could hear the excited gleam in Arcee's vocalizer, "all the things that could be allotted to! The possibilities to advance our tech is _astounding_."

Ah, now that was something that got Jhiaxus smiling thinly to himself. Knowing someone else could see the potential in all that he did, could understand what he did was to further knowledge and inspire change. He unhooked the port to Arcee's head. "You may go."

The young mech stood up, none of his sensors returning any notable change. "Yessir. When will you need me again?"

He just waved a hand, indicating Arcee to leave even as he turned away to busy himself with his equipment. "You will be called." The conversation now over, Arcee had little other option but to leave.

* * *

Arcee's steps were careful and measured, moving slowly enough for his sensors to pick up any potential movement at any given size. His objective ended up finding him instead, barreling down the hall and heading straight at him in streaks of black, orange, green and white.

"Hey!" He called to the four tiny roadsters, moving in their collective way. "Hey! Hang on a klik!"

In reply, the green and white vehicles slammed into the side of Arcee's foot hard enough to make him yelp and jerk back. The other two shot around him unhindered.

"Wait!" Arcee yelled, stumbling after them a few steps. "I want to talk to you!"

To his surprise, the four swung around and drifted to a stop. "Yeah- well we don't wanna talk to you!" The green one shot back.

"You made it pretty clear what you thought of us the first time around." The orange growled, engine roaring in the hall. "So why don't you save us your redundancy and get slagged?"

"I want to apologize."

The engines lowered to a dull, curious rumble. Arcee took this as encouragement to continue. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were mechs, I didn't know anyone had that kind of technology to do something so… impossible. I mean, when I thought you were simply well-constructed automatons I was impressed, but now that I know what you really are I'm… well, I'm awed, really."

The four stayed quiet and Arcee could feel them eyeing him with a measure of distrust. Eventually the black vehicle eased in front of the others. "Obviously you're new." He told the mech. "We know that much, so we can forgive you for that. Only this once."

"I'm Arcee." They already knew this, just as Arcee already knew who they were. Their sensors had picked up the designations and functions of each other the instant they were in range, but formally introducing themselves was an acknowledgement, allowing the others to be more familiar or to ask questions. 'I give you permission to know who I am'.

"Big Daddy." The black one said. "These are Greaser, Trip-Up and Hubs." The orange, white and green cars behind him rumbled in turn.

"How long have you been down here?"

"Too damn long."

The bitterness and angry rev of his engine told Arcee he didn't want to press on that line of questions. "Is there anyone else on this sub-level besides us?"

The four Micromasters seemed to confer for a moment, Trip-Up chuckling darkly through his engine.

"There's two others that are on this level." Big Daddy said. "The Duocons, Battletrap and Flywheels. You want to keep thinking you won't be losing your sanity, don't talk to Flywheels. You want to keep thinking you're not going to regret ever coming here, don't talk to Battletrap."

Before Arcee could ask another question, Big Daddy spun around and led the other three away.

* * *

Arcee had been called into the labs three more times, once within five cycles of the last and once by Thunderwing when Jhiaxus wasn't available. Arcee preferred dealing with the assistant; the scientist was too detached, too intimidating and most of Arcee's questions were answered in short, clipped tones if they were deemed important enough to answer at all.

"You weren't brought here for conversation," Thunderwing explained once, "but to participate in an experiment. All questions you may have regarding what's being done to you will be explained in due time. Jhiaxus prefers to focus entirely on his work."

While Thunderwing would explain the basics of what he was doing as he worked on Arcee, he wouldn't talk about what was going on beyond the underground lab. The young mech couldn't understand why he was so cut-off from current events but when he asked Jhiaxus, the scientist would just glare in that icy-stone way of his. Thunderwing explained that outside information was an uncontrolled variable that could corrupt the delicate chemical levels in the cranial unit. With how ready and even the answer was, Arcee had to wonder how much of that was true and how much was a stock response.

Outside the lab, he and the Micromasters tended to steer clear of each other. Not out of hate or fear, Arcee didn't want to insult them anymore than he already had by following them around (no matter how much he wanted to talk to someone not elbow deep in his head) and the Micromasters straight out distrusted him as they did all full-sized mechs. They didn't want to be involved with anyone who they didn't know the end results of their modifications. From what little they implied, it almost sounded as if there were others inaccessible on the lower levels.

Arcee, however, didn't feel any differently. All his diagnostics hadn't changed since his arrival and he still felt in full capacity. He didn't even know why he was there at all.

"Of course not," Big Daddy had told him once, "do you think we volunteered to be shrunk to this size?"

"Then why would he do it?"

The tiny black mech gave him a long, measured look. "Why does anyone do anything? Because they can. Or, in his case, to see if he could."

Arcee had shaken his head vehemently. He may not be certain of Jhiaxus's motives, but he refused to believe there wasn't an actual reason behind what he did. "No. I'm sure the things he does are for an applicable cause."

"If you want to call it that." Came the sarcastic retort. "Minibots didn't come first. How's that for application?"

And so, Arcee didn't talk to the Micromasters much. Big Daddy was the only one that was in any way willing to hold a conversation, Greaser and Hubs were good for short exchanges and Trip-Up would just rumble angrily until Arcee left. The few times he spoke to Big Daddy, questions kept surfacing which Arcee didn't want to think about, so he kept his distance.

His natural curiosity however, had Arcee seeking out these Duocons that Big Daddy had mentioned. On occasions his scanners would flicker momentarily, just long enough for him to sense someone was there, but not enough for his sensors to return with any information on who it was. These Duocons seemed to be hiding from him and when he asked Thunderwing how many mechs stayed on sub-level 4, the assistant told him:

"You, the four Micromasters and the two Duocons. That is all."

"And who stays on the levels beyond?"

Thunderwing watched him with cryptic, impassive green optics. "That is of no concern of yours."

As time went on Arcee began noticing that the momentary blips were reoccurring more and more, just long enough for his sensors to pick up a hint of information. The Micromasters, by then, stayed as far away from Arcee as they could and threatened him when the young mech followed them, trying to get someone to answer him.

"But what does this _mean_?"

"It means you're being toyed with," Big Daddy had snapped when Arcee finally managed to corner him. "Stay away from us. We've had more than enough of that crazy slagger!"

That 'crazy slagger', from what mismatched information Arcee's sensors picked up, was one of the Duocons, the name coming back as 'Battletrap'. He didn't know what a Duocon was and Battletrap never stayed in range long enough for the information to be filtered to him. Mostly Arcee would read just one signal, yet sometimes he'd read two, both of them coming back with the name 'Battletrap'.

"What are these Duocons?" He demanded of Thunderwing, his time away from the labs being filled with phantom blips and the sound of blades churning through distant air in one direction, squealing tires from another and the same name coming from both.

"Prototypes." Thunderwing said simply, keying something into Arcee's cranial unit. Jhiaxus, it seemed, was being called away more and more often by Nova Prime. "They were Jhixaus's first response to the demand of having a mech with two alt modes."

"So they are like triplechangers?"

"No. Duocons have two modes like us: standard and alt."

Arcee growled in irritation. He'd been getting less and less answers the longer he stayed, the more he asked. "You said they had _two_."

"Whereas triplechangers can change between three different modes, Duocons have two different alt modes that, when joined together, form one complete mech."

"They split into two _separate_ alt modes?"

"That's correct."

Arcee's fingers tapped out a rapid tattoo against the surface of the chair he sat in. "The Micromasters do not like them."

"The Micromasters don't trust normal sized mechs."

"Why are they here? The Micromasters and Duocons?" He asked tersely. The changes in Arcee's chemical balance made Thunderwing frown, unable to continue with his inputting while they kept fluctuating the way they were. "What's their purpose? If there are applications for the technology they were experimented with, what about _them_? Why are they still here?"

The assistant stifled an annoyed rumble of air in his vents and instead unplugged the input cord from Arcee's cranial unit. With the increase in internal pressure and temperature, he wouldn't be able to do anything more without running the risk of corrupting data. Had Jhiaxus been present, he would've berated Thunderwing for allowing Arcee to get worked up- that was why Jhiaxus limited uncontrolled influences to his test subjects as much as possible. "They're here because they've not been perfected. Jhiaxus still needs to observe and correct any problems they may have."

"Then why does he keep creating more of these experiments?" The young mech watched Thunderwing putting the tech in their proper containers with angry optics. "Should he not perfect one experiment before starting another?"

"If that were the way science worked," came the clipped retort, "then wouldn't all scientist work on one problem at a time instead of spreading their talents on different ideas?"

"That is not the same thing-"

"That is very much the same thing." He turned, optics narrowed and expression impatient. "That is all for now, Arcee. You may leave."

For a stretched moment he hesitated, words floating behind his faceplates and wanting to escape and bite out the frustrations that were slowly building up inside. But he kept them lashed back, slide out of the chair and out of the door. As Arcee moved down the hall, he transformed and went off to find this Battletrap. Though his protoframe alt mode was still so small, fragile and slow without any upgrades, it was still quicker to traverse distances on wheels than by foot. The halls were set in long, sloping corridors, wide enough for construction-sized mechs to drive through and completely dwarfed Arcee. The echo of his engine hummed off the pale, sterilized walls, washed-out by the overhead lighting. Though he knew he wouldn't be able to run down a fully upgraded mech, Arcee wouldn't stop trying even though the slight fluctuations in his perimeter scans made it clear Battletrap was playing with him.

Arcee had never been down to this end of the level, mainly because the Micromasters refused to go there. But now he charged in headlong, wanting someone to _answer his questions_, slaggit. Battletrap continued to flicker in two different grids of Arcee's sensors and the young mech could've sworn he heard laughter drifting out around him.

He didn't even know how he was supposed to catch Battletrap, or even what exactly he'd do once he found this Duocon. There was surely a reason he didn't stay down around the labs. Maybe he wasn't a stable as Arcee hoped.

And then he saw it. Not Battletrap, but the other one. The other _one_. Arcee's scans came back with the information that would've had him recycling the data feed if he hadn't already known what to expect.

Duocon Flywheels. A jet and an armored vehicle. The rest of the information was nothing but an incoherent jumble of words. Most of what he got were angry stems of 'useless', 'arrogant' and 'wasted on that scrap heap'. It nearly drowned out what almost felt like a distress signal. Arcee revved his engine and tried to press faster than he was already rolling. Whatever was going on, Flywheels was in trouble and Arcee wasn't programmed to ignore someone he could help.

Flywheels's energy signature was coming from one of the many rooms lining the corridor. Arcee transformed as he came upon it. The door was windowless and didn't open to his presence. He tried to key the lock, but was denied at every attempt. He tried to comm Flywheels but his pings weren't being accepted, tried pounding on the door, but the only noise he could strain to hear was some faint shuffling sounds and whimpered pleas. Arcee pounded harder, desperate to get inside.

"He won't come out."

The mech jumped, whirling about to see a huge blue and white mech behind him, an unstable leer under a blue visor that seemed hungry and disgusted at the same time. Battletrap, Arcee's sensors said. He'd been too determined to get to Flywheels to pay attention to his scanners. He had finally found Battletrap and now that he had, Arcee was too wary of that twitching smirk to want to know anything more about him.

"Open the door." He said weakly. He couldn't see Battletrap's optics but he could feel the way he was being sized up. It actually reminded Arcee that, without his first upgrade, he was still very much a fledgling. He wanted to get away from Battletrap as fast as possible but could not, in good conscious, leave Flywheels alone. "If you know the code, open the door." The Duocon leaned in, tilting his head in a way Arcee would've deemed impossible given the placement of his rotary assembly. "Please."

"He won't come out." Battletrap repeated, vocalizer tight and high and crackling around the edges. "You'll only make it worse for him."

"Worse how? What's wrong with him? Open the door."

Battletrap continued to look at the other mech in that strange, tilted way of his and Arcee thought he'd refuse to unlock the door. Surprisingly he went to the control panel and his quick fingers danced over the combination. He smiled wide to himself, as if he were about to show Arcee the greatest joke he'd ever known.

With a subtle hiss of hydraulics, the door opened. Arcee quickly stepped in to assess the situation. All he saw was a mech- Flywheels –slouched on a berth with his hands clamped tight over the curve of his helmet. His optic visor flickered rapidly and small, almost soundless pleas fell from his mouth component. "Shut up," he whispered into the empty space between his arms, "shut up shut up please shut up."

"Congratulations." Battletrap's words were more of a hiss through his intakes than purred through his engine. "You've caught him in one of his more lucid moments."

"What do you mean?" Arcee asked, horrified at the site of a mech clearly on the last vestiges of sanity. "What's wrong with him?"

"It's his different components. They don't mesh together."

"I…I don't understand."

Battletrap merely peered into the room from the doorway and Arcee slowly approached Flywheels, uncertain what to do. "His jet and armored vehicle modes. Their separate processors don't mesh. They're arguing. Inside his head. Constantly." His grin spread even further over his faceplates. "They hate each other. The only way to get them to stop fighting is to transform. But if he does, his two halves will probably never rejoin and then what's left of _him_ will be lost."

Arcee whirled around. "Does anyone know about this? Jhiaxus, Thunderwing- they can-"

"Do you really think they care?" His expression turned bemused. "They were the ones that did this to us. We're just experiments to them. Whatever doesn't work out the way they want just gets tossed aside- outright destroyed or left to rot in this jail."

"This isn't a jail." But Arcee's voice wasn't certain of itself. They were the same words Big Daddy had told him more than once, words that Arcee didn't believe because he didn't _want_ to. Neither did he want to believe in them now.

"Oh no?" Battletrap shifted his weight, as if he was about to step in but he made no move forward. "Have you ever been back up to the surface since you were brought down here? Or contacted anyone. Or told about what's going on out there? We're not just failures and prisoners down here. We're freaks. And we're below Jhiaxus's attention." He lifted his head, jutting his chin towards Flywheels who was now crying softly to himself.

"Flywheels was here before me. Instead of trying to fix his warring components, Jhiaxus got annoyed and bored and decided to start the process over again." A grin fluctuated over his faceplates again. "But I wasn't considered stable enough. Because I couldn't perform to expectations, Jhiaxus scrapped the Duocon project all together. And he just left the two of us to wander around on our own until we decide to junk ourselves." Battletrap tossed his head like a shrug. "That's the only existence you can look forward to from here on out. You can live as a useless freak, locked away from prying eyes, slowly going mad. Or you can kill yourself and end it all."

Arcee shook his head, unable to accept that. "No. You're wrong. The Micromasters are capable enough to survive on their own."

Battletrap's engine roared with laughter. It caused Flywheels to jump and shrink further into himself. "They're not going anywhere. They're utterly useless. The only reason why they exist at all is because Jhiaxus wanted to see if he could do it."

"I don't believe any of that."

"You don't have to." Battletrap grinned widely as he stepped back into the hall. "But it's still the truth."

* * *

RumbleStrip: I had a hard time trying to figure out if I liked Arcee's Spotlight or not. Like most developments in the comics that I wasn't too crazy about, I reserved judgment just to see where they'd end up going with it. But, honestly, I liked Arcee back in the old movie/cartoons and having such a bitter, violent rendition of her (while awesome) threw me for a loop. And just because I DID like her so much, I had to set things right in my head as to WHY she's like this. So hopefully this may help other people that had that problem, too.

Also, thanks for the compliment! I tend to have things unfolding very vividly in my head so I try articulate it exactly as I see it. Sort of like a movie. So I'm really glad to hear that it comes out as very picturable to you!

Tomorrow and JML: Nice to have you two on board!

* * *


	3. Chapter 2

Do You Know What it Feels like  
Chapter 2

_"Girls can wear jeans and cut their hair short, wear shirts and boots, because it's okay to be a boy, but for a boy to look like a girl is degrading, because you think that being a girl is degrading. But secretly you'd love to know what it's like, wouldn't you? What it feels like for a girl?"_

-Charlotte Gainsbourg, The Cement Garden

* * *

Arcee didn't go back down to that end of the level again. Nor did he seek out the Micromasters to let them know what he found. Instead he stayed in his quarters until he was called for by either Jhiaxus or Thunderwing. He sat on his berth, staring at the walls and wishing he had brought something to keep him entertained- even a bookfile. He wondered how much longer he'd be forced to stay down here.

He hoped there'd be a day he'd no longer be down here.

Whatever was happening in the meetings with Nova Prime helped to facilitate the work being done on Arcee. Soon he was being seen for longer sessions, mainly with Jhiaxus, sometimes with both him and his assistant. Arcee still didn't know what was being done to him and every time he asked he was ignored until he stopped asking altogether. Sometimes he would be off-lined during a session but usually not. The only words he ever spoke by then only served to answer any questions given to him.

Arcee wondered how no one else could know what was going on below their feet. Then he wondered if any of them even cared.

* * *

Arcee was only paying the barest of attention as he left his latest session, slightly disoriented. All of his diagnostic checks came back with the same answer he was always given: nothing had changed. Except that he _knew_ that something had. Somehow there was something inside of him that didn't fit quite right and that made the rest of him feel off-kilter.

Part of him wanted to blame the new armor merely because it was the only thing he _could_ blame. He knew it couldn't possibly be the answer, but he needed something and the idea that Jhiaxus could've done something to him that his internal scanners couldn't pick up was beyond frightening.

Arcee raised an arm into the air, twisting it around to watch the arm guard's colors shift around the light. He was surprised that Jhiaxus had even deemed it necessary to give Arcee his first upgrade, but upgraded he was. The arm guards were just the beginning. From here on out, until the last session, Arcee would be given new upgrades until this experiment was deemed complete.

At one time that idea would've left Arcee's internals clenching with anticipation, wanting to know so desperately what he was going to become. Now, though, with Big Daddy and Battletrap's words in his processor and Flywheels sitting in the dark and whimpering to the fractured voices in his head, Arcee wasn't too certain he wanted to find out.

His optics flickered downward and saw the small, orange form of Greaser waiting for him. Arcee stopped. "Can I help you?"

None of the Micromasters had ever gone out of their way to speak to Arcee. Even Big Daddy wouldn't speak to him unless the full-sized mech spoke first. And yet there was Greaser, tiny hands on his tiny hips and leaning back slightly to stare up at Arcee. "We know you went to see the Duocons." He said. "Big Daddy wants you to know that not all of Jhiaxus's experiments are docile."

Arcee canted his head to one side. "But I've already met everyone. Asides from being a little unstable, I don't think either of the Duocons are particularly violent."

Greaser snorted, obviously growing more and more agitated the longer he had to stand there. Arcee wondered if there wasn't some side effect from the transfer to such a small cranial unit. "The Duocons are nothing. Jhiaxus doesn't keep all his experiments on one level- there's still plenty below us filled with other failed mechs. No- I'm talking about an abomination to all of creation. It's down on sub-level 8."

Arcee hadn't known there were more sub-levels and that thought just made his cables run cold. "What do you mean? What's down there?"

"I don't know what it is exactly- Trip-Up and Hubs found a way down there once. They say it was a creature hodgepodged together from a bunch of other mechs. Not reconstructed from their pieces, but actually _them_ with their processors forced to merge together to create this monstrosity." Greaser's hands trembled slightly and he jutted his chin out, trying to act as if the idea of this… whatever it was didn't scare the ever-loving scrap out of him. "According to them it's only capable of thinking of one thing and that is to destroy everything. The only reason Jhiaxus hadn't put it out of its misery is because he hopes to turn it into some kind of superweapon."

Arcee's hands- now white, the new servos used to clutch over twice as strong in their gripping power –clenched into fists against his thighs. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because not all of Jhiaxus's projects are for the good of anything."

"Then why? Why do it at all?"

Greaser gave Arcee a long look, as if he couldn't believe Arcee refused to see what was right in front of him. "There's only one reason Jhiaxus does anything- not to advance the race but to prove to himself that it's possible. Whatever else happens to us, what does he care? If he got all the information he needs from us, we could rust on the spot for all the attention he gives us afterwards."

Arcee clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling. "That can't be true. No one can be that sparkless."

The Micromaster merely tilted his head in a shrug. "Suit yourself then." He said, as if he knew that was going to be Arcee's answer from the beginning. But he'd done what he was asked to do so Greaser transformed and his tires made a thin, high noise as he peeled out.

Arcee _refused_ to believe it. If Jhiaxus didn't care so much, then why would he bother upgrading Arcee at all? He kept his concerns quiet as the scientist and his assistant worked, but as more and more armor was being added to him (pink and white, not a normal color pattern for a member of the Security Force, not tactical enough) the words haunted him, pressing to the forefront of his processor.

A dissatisfied rumble from Jhiaxus made Arcee wince. The scientist leaned forward so the young mech could peer into his face as he lay on the laboratory berth. "What," Jhiaxus asked with evident annoyance, "has gotten you so worked up? You'll corrupt the data we're inputting if you cannot keep your internal fluxes within acceptable limits."

"I apologize. I-," Arcee's optics flickered for a moment, uncertain, "I would like to know what you are doing to me."

Jhiaxus lifted his head minutely- possibly exchanging a glance with Thunderwing –before looking back down with a twist to his mouth. "I'm turning you into a female."

Arcee's faceplates shifted in confusion. "Female? What is that?"

"Organic beings that reproduce sexually have different genders with different genitalia required for the process. These are mainly divided into two major branches: male and female." Jhiaxus explained gruffly. "In those societies, gender roles are prescribed to what is expected of each gender. One is ideally to be larger, stronger and often considered the hunter or protector. One is smaller, weaker and considered the caregiver."

"But… I-I do not…"

"Irregardless of the fact that they need all their genders in order to continue surviving, one gender is always considered superior to the others. This is usually the stronger, a majority of which has been deemed the male. Those that do not fit the ideal of the dominant gender are belittled. You are to become a female, one of these lesser genders."

Arcee's optics were wide, hope hanging over a gaping void even as he asked, "Why would you do that?"

"To see how Cybertronians respond to someone that does not fit our predominant assumption of the ideal role." Jhiaxus looked up, nodding and Arcee could hear Thunderwing shuffling around beyond his field of vision. "I've determined that the key to genders isn't what a gender is capable of rather it just needs to be deemed exploitable and less important or competent."

Arcee's spark contracted painfully in his chest cavity, internals flushed cold and he could barely whisper out, "Why are you doing this? Who does this benefit?"

Jhiaxus tilted his head down, almost as if he were surprised Arcee even had to ask. "No one, of course. I merely wish to see if it is possible to recreate gender roles in a genderless society." He moved away from Arcee's side and then Arcee's awareness went blank from forced shutdown.

* * *

It was almost laughably easy to see the differences now that Arcee had a reference to look for. He still couldn't find the changes internally, but whatever it was Jhiaxus did to him, whatever it meant to be 'female' changed how others acted with Arcee. Arcee didn't know if Jhiaxus and Thunderwing's increasingly silent mannerisms were directly affected by the experiment, but it was obvious that the

Micromasters were far more aggressive and short-tempered with Arcee. Even Trip-Up had gone from annoyed posturing to almost threatening whenever Arcee went near him. Battletrap, conversely, ventured deeper and deeper in the territories around the labs, getting more daring in his strange enjoyment of making Arcee jump at every strange sound.

It had to be because of what Jhiaxus was doing to him. Arcee couldn't understand why any of this was happening otherwise. He managed to corner Thunderwing, demanding to know how Jhiaxus had done this.

"It's a very simple process," the assistant said with an imperial calm, more receptive to Arcee's question since Jhiaxus explained what was happening, "but what you're noticing is the result of our manipulating your central cortex."

Arcee's optics paled. "Manip… what did you do to me?"

"We altered the information in your central cortex, which in turn has changed what others receive from your electrical field whenever it's pinged by their sensors, adjusting it to the preliminary variables of gender specifications. The key in gender interactions is that no one must be aware that they are acting different. This must be a natural, subconscious process. If a society is predisposed to belittle or act aggressively to a gender for no reason than that they are that gender, then they see it as how it should be. If they are to ignore or act as if that gender is helpless, then that is what they do. Jhiaxus merely altered your cortex to reply to any preliminary pings that you are less important than other Cybertronians. How others react to that information is natural for them and therefore how they'd react to all females genders."

"Change me back."

Thunderwing tilted his head, as if the very thought had never occurred to him. "Change you back?"

"Change me back! I don't want this! I don't want to _be_ this!"

"You agreed to the experiment."

"I didn't know what you were going to do!"

The green of his optics darkened, unimpressed. "And that is our fault?"

Arcee's hands clenched, the fine constructs of his face twisted in fury. "I want to be changed back." He growled. "I want all this undone. I _will not_ be part of this any longer."

"If you believe you can hide in our own facilities, you are welcome to try." Thunderwing didn't have to say it, but Arcee heard it loud enough. Others have tried. All of them failed.

But that didn't stop him from attempting to. He switched rooms, never stayed in the same hall twice in a row. He picked corridors where he could hear approaches and had enough avenues of escape. He rarely recharged now, too afraid that he'd online with Jhiaxus peering down at him in disgust, as he finally lost all sense of who he was. So he huddled in room after abandoned room, consciously smothering his electrical signature as best he could. And he listened.

He could hear the small, telltale squeals of little tires in the distance and sometimes he could hear the faint screaming of Flywheels raving to himself. What he heard mostly was Battletrap, sometimes walking, sometimes flying and driving up and down the halls, laughing lowly.

"Arcee," he'd crow as he'd travel, pacing outside of whatever room the young mech holed himself in, "come and play!"

Sometimes, in voices that made Arcee curl in the corners and shudder, Battletrap's two components would ride with each other, both calling out, "Play with us! Come play with us!" Arcee didn't need the Micromasters to tell him what Battletrap meant. The promise of a cruel and vicious game was evident in the echoing vocalizers that spoke with the same voice.

He listened to the slicing of rotary blades and rumble of engines. He listened to Battletrap singing out for him and cackling to himself. Battletrap would get bored- he always did. He'd get bored and then he'd leave and Arcee would finally be able to grab a couple cycles of recharge before he'd force himself to move again.

The hall eventually fell silent and Arcee ducked his head, slowly suspending his systems-

_CRASH!_

He jumped to his feet, pressed against the wall and stared at the door. Something slammed against it again.

"You're wrong." A voice growled out like ice from the other side; something scraping across the titanium plating of the door. "You're wrong. You're an abomination. You're a freak, you're not right."

Arcee pushed himself against the wall as flat as he could go, afraid of that voice more than the words. It was a broken, fractious voice, misused and torn up- a voice that only knew hate and anger and no peace. It was Flywheels's voice.

"You shouldn't exist. None of us should exist." The broken Duocon hissed. "We have no function, no purpose. We should all be scraped. Don't you feel it? Jhiaxus put himself inside of us. He's under our chassis now, he's traveling in our cables. He tainted us with his signature and we can never be rid of him. We deserve to die. He deserves to die for making us what _freaks_ we are."

Arcee couldn't say anything, just shook his head at the door as if that would ever be enough. He sat back on the floor as Flywheels continued his tirade, speaking in a low, spark-stopping voice about how wrong they all were, how they all needed to die. The words seeped into Arcee's processor because he was too afraid to stop them. He sat and listened to all this and couldn't move. He didn't know when Flywheels had left, just stared at the locked door as if it could save him and he sat.

At some point, the door opened, Thunderwing standing on the other side. Arcee looked up at him sightlessly.

"Arcee." He said with evident distaste. "It's time for another session."

"No."

The quiet denial didn't surprise the assistant in the least. "You'll come with me now."

"No."

"I won't play this game with you. You'll either get up and follow me, or I will force you."

"No."

With a sneer, Thunderwing stepped back. "Very well." The new shape in the doorway grinned with a mixture of glee and malice. Battletrap's optics gleamed happily, finally getting his chance to play. "Bring Arcee to the lab. Refrain from damaging him severely." Thunderwing left that task to Battletrap, steps fading away.

Arcee tried to shrink back, but he had no where to go.

* * *

GB: Yeah, I know in DW Shockwave was the one that made all the upgrades, but I recall somewhere IDW saying Jhiaxus was doing work Micromasters and I figured- hell. Might as well mix it up, mainly because I like the idea of someone experimenting on others to help Cybertronians 'evolve'. I don't know if IDW plans on any actual connection between Shockwave and Jhiaxus, but I think it would be pretty awesome if there was.

Azure: I know what you mean. When I read a summary of her Spotlight, I was thinking 'this can't end well' and, well... it wasn't TERRIBLE, exactly. There was enough interesting bits of information on top of things that didn't sit right with me that I had to rearrange it to make sense to me. Hence, this thing.

Jason: The Tricolora series? Yeah, I really love that thing, man. Revelation has taken such a dark, dark turn I'm simultaneously excited for the new chapters and afraid of where it might end up going.

RumbleStrip: Her being a tranny doesn't really bother me (until i call her a tranny, then i get slightly weirded out) mainly because I prefer to think of Cybertronians as being neuters. The only reason why they're referred to with a male pronoun at all is because our society is a patriarchal one. I mean, there's various ways to get around the 'female' Transformers subject, and the more of this story I was writing, the more I realized that not only would it be amazingly creepy for someone to say 'okay, I'm going to change your gender just to see if I can even create gender categories for a society that has no idea what they even are' but also how incredibly hard it would be for them to be defined in a genderless society.

It's really counter-intuitive for me, because I'm one of those that believes everyone should be equal regardless of gender, race or any kind of preferences. And here I am, trying to rationalize someone that wants to breakdown that equality barrier.

And that got really tl;dr

Tomorrow: Yeah, I never really got the Micromasters, either. I still can't justify them beyond Jhiaxus's, 'let's see if I can do it- btw, you're all totally useless so you get to stay locked up'.


	4. Chapter 3

Do You Know What it Feels like  
Chapter 3

_"Girls can wear jeans and cut their hair short, wear shirts and boots, because it's okay to be a boy, but for a boy to look like a girl is degrading, because you think that being a girl is degrading. But secretly you'd love to know what it's like, wouldn't you? What it feels like for a girl?"_

-Charlotte Gainsbourg, The Cement Garden

* * *

When Arcee's optics came on it was to the increasingly familiar view of the ceiling of Jhiaxus's lab. Somewhere beyond sight were two voices in low conversation. Arcee, feeling sluggish and uncoordinated, strained to listen.

"-progress is too slow. The data isn't keeping correctly."

"Do you think it is becoming corrupted?"

"No. There's no error diagnosis. I think it's her CPU that's rearranging the information."

"Rearranging? How?"

"The programmers are getting more clever as time goes on, Thunderwing. Look here," something shuffled about, muffling the voices with shoulder components that were hunched over a computer terminal, "the data we entered in a meta-cycle ago, the one that modified her instinctual behavioral pattern."

"I recall those. It took three sessions before it finally took."

"The programmers are making the neo-cortex more self-aware and resistant to change."

"I see, how very clever! That is why you have been combing through every strand of data in Acree's cortex. You were learning the way her cerebral net has been reprogramming the data we had input in order to counter it."

"It took some time, but I believe I have the information needed to develop a program that will be able to utilize these reconstructive programs to change the parameters as the user sees fit."

"I'm amazed! Being able to bypass such things is impressive enough, but to manipulate them into doing your own work is astounding!"

"It's just some delicate invasive programming, really." Jhiaxus replied almost offhandedly. "It will take much more research to perfect the subliminal coding."

The ceiling tilted as Arcee's head shrugged to one side. Jhiaxus and Thunderwing's voices were growing more animated and louder. They seemed to have completely forgotten their subject was still there.

"What are you doing?" The crackling vocalizer made Arcee wince.

"Ah- she's online." Thunderwing noted with sudden monotony.

"Why are you calling me that?"

The two scientists paused, trying to understand the question. Jhiaxus's expression lit up as close to joy as he was capable of becoming. "It's taken! It really has taken! Well done, Thunderwing! It worked and we hadn't even realized it! It turned out even better than I had hoped!"

Arcee's optics darted between the two incomprehensibly. "What are you talking about? Why are you referring to me like that?"

Cybertronians, as a genderless society, didn't have pronouns indicative of females. Instead they used layers of formality, referring to each other based on their place in the social hierarchy. Arcee they talked about on an almost insulting low level.

"You are a female now." Jhiaxus said with no lack of pride. "A femme. If you are a gender to be beneath us, you should be regarded as such on all levels."

Arcee struggled against the bonds. "No! I am not!" He growled. He, dammit, _he_. "Stop calling me that! I am not a female! I am not below anyone!"

"Jhiaxus, sir. The programming is attempting to regress."

"Hm, pity. I suppose that new program will take longer to perfect than I thought. This will be a long session. Offline her."

"Yessir."

In the background the scientist muttered to himself, "Perhaps if I wrapped the main program in a datashell and input that directly into the cerebral cortex instead of having it work through the network. That would make her CNA more susceptible to change and, with the correct subliminal coding, the cortex wouldn't even recognize it as an invasive object and therefore be unable to counter it…"

Thunderwing paused, intrigued by the thought. Arcee's consciousness hung at his fingertips. "Sir?"

"To use those analogies you enjoy so much, Thunderwing, it would be like a bombshell, waiting for the correct trigger to set it off."

"Perhaps, sir," Thunderwing chided lightly, "you should leave the analogies to me." Arcee's awareness was cut off.

* * *

The room was dark and utterly silent except for the subsonic hum of distant generators. Arcee was huddled in the corner trying not to think of what she'd become (he, _he_). How could Jhiaxus do this to a sentient being? How could anyone live like this- being constantly belittled for something they couldn't control (control- ha! For such drastic alterations, non-consensual, to beings that chose their upgrades was being raped to the very core, destroying everything they _were_)? How could they function believing they were less because of some arbitrary reason? Arcee refused to stand for that. He would not let Jhiaxus continue to do what he willed. He would not let anyone belittle her (_him_, dammit) for something that wasn't his choice.

"I won't do it." Arcee muttered into the crook of her (his) arms. Jhiaxus hadn't even let him keep his own vocal tone, heightened the pitch until it was almost unbearable to hear. "I won't allow this to happen anymore. I am not female. I'm as capable a mech as anyone. I won't let you take that away from me."

_I am not less_, he told himself. _I will not _be_ less_.

Primus, now he understood how Flywheels felt, constantly fighting his own head.

_That worthless piece of scrap junk. I'll kill him for doing this to me. To us all._

"Threats aside, you are hardly in a position to refer to anyone as worthless."

Arcee jumped at the voice, cursing internally, unaware that his words had been out loud. She glared at the walls, growling deep in his engine block. "And who made _me_ like that?" It was getting harder to address himself normally but she wasn't going to stop (_he_).

"Asides from the subconscious impulses that make you inferior in any other mech's view, you are very much worthless to society as a whole." Jhiaxus's voice boomed in that measured, cold way of his. "There is no point to your existence, no function for you to perform because no one else will give you that chance. You no longer have a place in our society. A mech without a function is better off never existing."

There was no inflection in Jhiaxus's vocalizer. He spoke to Arcee on the same level as he'd spoken these same words to the Micromasters, the Duocons, to all the monstrosities hidden somewhere below, to every other mech whose lives he destroyed merely to sate his curiosity.

"You are not needed. You are functionless and therefore a burden to our society. You will not subvert our race with your presence. You will not leave this compound for the rest of your existence."

"How can you claim the ability to decide if I'm capable of functioning in society?" Arcee snapped. "What gives you the right to say that of me or anyone else you have trapped here?"

"Because I know what you're capable of. Though all of you have given me valuable scientific knowledge, in the end you are all failures for you have no other uses."

"You won't even let us try!" Arcee bolted to his feet, fists bunched and wanting to punch Jhiaxus's voice from the room. "I'm in full capacity of all my processes and I still retain all my preliminary data! I'm as mentally capable _now_ as I was when I first came here! How am I supposed to prove this if you won't give me the _chance_?"

"That is the same conundrum all who are discriminated against face."

"If I'm set to fail from the start, then what's the point?"

"What you do from now on is of little concern to me."

Arcee's yellow optics paled and glowed sightlessly at the wall. "So you'll kill me, then?"

"I am not a murderer." Air cycled out of Arcee's vents like a snort. "I will allow you the same choice as I've given the others. You may continue your useless existence here so long as you do not interfere with any of my other works. Or you may ask to be shut down at any time."

The sharp pulses of air continued util Arcee's engine was stuttering laughter from inside his chest. Live a life as fulfilling as death or die outright? Some choice.

"Arcee." Jhiaxus said sternly, lost under Arcee's rising hysteria. "Arcee, what is your answer?" The stuttering rose to a roar. "_Femme_. Answer me."

The roar cut to a growl as suddenly as a switch. "I will kill you." She snarled, optics filled with murder. "I will kill you and all your abominations. I'll destroy all of your research- wipe your very existence from Cybertron. I will not rest until you're broken and dead under my heel."

Jhiaxus seemed far from impressed. "We shall see."

* * *

"Jhiaxus, sir," Thunderwing spoke even as his optics didn't stray from the monitors, "are you sure it is wise to allow Arcee to function?"

The femme- another of Thunderwing's designations and Jhiaxus, as always, felt no compunction in arguing the label –spent her times in unstable, emotional bouts. Some cycles she'd be curled in a room, flinching at every noise real and imaginary. At other times she'd pace, mumbling incoherently to herself. Rarely still she'd explode with curses and attack the objects in the room in violent, raging outbursts.

At another consul, reading through some text sent by Nova Prime, Jhiaxus merely scoffed distractedly. "Are you concerned for my safety, Thunderwing? I would have assumed after Monstructor that such threats from the likes of these other experiments would be laughably insignificant."

Normally Thunderwing would have agreed. But unlike many of the experiments still with them, Arcee still had full control of her mental capacities and had, after all, been built to function as one of the Autobot's field intelligence specialists. Though his sensors told him Arcee was clearly nothing to be concerned over, the more objective part of him knew she was designed to be clever and ruthless from the start. Once she had control of her emotional outbursts, the ordeal she'd undergone would very likely do nothing but increase that aspect of her programming.

"I just think we should install a limiter on her."

"It doesn't matter."

"But her emotional instability-"

"Is not nearly as severe as either of the Duocons. She's harmless." Jhiaxus registered Thunderwing's dubious expression from the corner of his optics. "It is merely a side affect of her programming. Such extreme emotional swings are not part of the ideal behavior, therefore she must be prone to it. That is all."

Thunderwing pressed his lips in to a thin line but nodded. "As you say, sir. Though I feel I must ask- is this experiment considered complete?"

"Far from it, Thunderwing. This was merely the first step into the actual experiment itself. First we needed to ensure that we could create a variable which would cause all others to naturally regulate a… 'femme' to an inferior position regardless of their actual capabilities. From there the experiment will merely be an observational one to see if any mechs or the subject herself will attempt to overcome what is deemed 'natural' in order to gain equality."

"Are you planning on releasing Arcee back into society, then?"

Jhiaxus scoffed, scrolling through the text. "Absolutely not! Asides from being emotionally unstable, she was already too self-aware before the modifications were made. It was an oversight on my part, I'll admit. Arcee is already aware that, logically, she shouldn't be treated any less than any other mech. I want to know- to parallel organic societies –what it would take for a femme to realize she was being belittled and the effort it would take to end the discrimination. Do you understand the full scope of this experiment?"

"Yes, sir, I believe I do. Do you want me to begin compiling the supplies needed to create the framework of this new femme?"

The question was waved off carelessly. "Not right now. I will pick this experiment up again on my return."

"Return, sir?" The assistant asked with a tilt of his head. "Are you being called away?"

"Nova is requesting my assistance in developing a large ship capable of surpassing the distance of our greatest ranged transport ships by five-fold. He wishes me to join the crew when it launches."

Thunderwing turned in surprise, ignoring Arcee as she curled in the ruins of the recharge berth in her misery. "You?" He paused, drawing up on prior knowledge that would have indicated this sudden announcement. "Does this pertain to the memo that began this last experiment? Prime wants to create a warship to conquer any biological race he comes across, correct?"

"It will be under the guise of an exploratory mission, but that is correct."

"What about the Matrix? I doubt Autobot high command will let him leave for such an endeavor with it, never mind the Senate."

"It will most likely be passed on to Nova's second for safekeeping."

"And your experiments?"

Jhiaxus hummed through his engine, rough and cold. "This ship will hold most of my time and energy. They will be put in stasis until I return."

"Do you plan to keep them all?"

Jhiaxus looked up at Thunderwing with dark optics that hid great cunning. "You don't seem to recall what I always tell you, Thunderwing. There are surprising revelations even in the most ardent failures. So long as they live, there may be some use for them."

* * *

They were finally being locked away together- that is all who were on the same level were most likely being locked away with each other. After over a mega-cycle of knowing their fate, set to be suspended for an unknown period, all the preparations had been completed. Thunderwing led them all to the stasis chamber. The Micromasters huddled close together, Battletrap snarled but followed like a barely obedient beast. Flywheels muttered insults to himself and kept his wrists close together as if he were manacled. Arcee stared at Thunderwing's back and wondered why she didn't feel the urge to strike at him. He had as much responsibility turning her into this unnatural creature as his mentor did.

"How long will we be in stasis?" She asked. Honestly the idea soothed her. She was tired of fighting with herself. She was tired of remembering to get upset whenever she forgot to call herself 'he'. She was tired of being cognitive of the freak she became. Perhaps that's why the others were so docile. They were probably more tired than Arcee was."

"Until Jhiaxus returns."

"When will he return?"

"I do not know." With that, Thunderwing began securing each of them to their stasis berths. Four of them had been modified to accommodate a Micromaster.

"And?" Asked Battletrap. "If he never comes back?"

"Then I suppose you'll be in stasis lock until your sparks atrophy."

Hubs's little optics went wide. "Is that possible?"

The assistant merely paused and looked at him. "Perhaps you can think of this as a new experiment, then."

Arcee saw it then, why- despite being unrestrained –none of them attacked Thunderwing. He was as bound to Jhiaxus's will as they were, perhaps even more because Jhiaxus had captured his curiosity, his yearning to learn. He was trapped in this labyrinth of laboratories and abominations because if he ever left, he'd never know. And yet he cared. He looked at each experiment and saw some poor creature bound by something vile growing inside of them that they couldn't escape. They looked at him and saw the same thing. If Thunderwing ever left, he would be forced to see all the minds he destroyed for the sake of an intellectual endeavor- most of which would never leave that underground complex –was nothing but a waste of lives.

Arcee felt pity for him. While they had relief from their broken lives, what waited for Thunderwing after Jhiaxus left? Would he stay in the labs like some lost ghost left to watch over the defunct relics his mentor would leave behind? Would he continue Jhiaxus's works or leave to study elsewhere, or would he put himself in stasis as well?

None of them struggled as Thunderwing put them into stasis. Arcee offlined her optics, text scrolling through her HUD, informing her of the shut down procedures, of systems being put on suspension or on conservation status. She felt herself going numb to everything, all her pain and anger and frustration peeled back as her body was disassembled and set into storage. Everything melted away until her central processor blanked out and all she felt was the subliminal thrum of her spark. But it wasn't just her spark she felt.

Scientists would say it's an impossibility, but Arcee could claim it where none were present to ridicule her. For even in stasis she could sense her fellow monstrosities around her. They all shared the same peace she felt but she could still distinguish them all the same. Big Daddy's firm beliefs and Greaser's sly attitude. Trip-Up beyond them, distant and unwelcoming even here and Hubs trying to measure up to all three. On her other side was a surprisingly docile Battletrap. On the berth across from her was Flywheels, so welcoming of the stasis he barely registered on the monitors as still functioning.

Beyond them she could still feel other pulses resonating with her spark. Creatures filled with an insatiable hunger- not a need to refuel but to _eat_, a purely organic concept Arcee couldn't fathom. There were others who were complete and incomplete, a fully functioning personality with a fragment of another meshed within, a secondary personality that responded to a fragment within another. Their processors were even more fractious than Flywheels, unable to properly function without their other half but unwilling to submit to their dormant persona.

She felt them. All of them. The scores of experiments Arcee had never realized existed. She felt the failures and violent, the lonely and the neurotic. She felt the sparks of other Duocons and Micromasters, no where near as lucid as those she'd come to know. Beyond them all she felt _It_. The presence all others shied away from. Six shattered processors that raged even in stasis and screamed for release and a seventh presence that weaved into them all that wanted to do nothing but kill. It was the abomination that frightened the Micromasters, she knew. Arcee didn't know if she pitied them, feared them or just wished them dead.

It was impossible to feel the passage of time in their suspension. Arcee could only measure it by the gradual fading and extinction of sparks around her. It made her wonder if sparks really could atrophy or if it were some sort of equipment failure that was extinguishing one presence, then another. Or perhaps Jhiaxus had returned and was merely bringing back a select few.

She couldn't explain why, but Arcee knew he hadn't come back. She continued to count the fading sparks until there were only a handful left- barely a quarter of their original numbers. Arcee wondered if she'd feel herself fade the way she could feel everyone else fade before she was finally extinguished.

Awareness suddenly came upon her. She could feel her processes starting up, the weight of her body so familiar and foreign. Words were scrolling across her HUD and Arcee recognized it as the rebooting process. She was online again and felt the pain of system errors.

She screamed out from the warnings flashing white-hot in her processor and from being torn from the first amount of peace she'd had in too long. She jerked against her binds and roared in that lighter lilt of hers until it almost seemed like a sonic cry. Somewhere she recognized that someone was speaking to her.

"Calm down," the voice was a low rumble, more felt than heard. "You're safe. You won't be harmed."

"Jhiiiaxxusss," she hissed out the curse as if she were relearning to speak.

"He is gone."

"Where?"

"Disappeared with the Ark and all aboard it."

"No." Arcee snarled. Her head lulled around, trying to locate the source of the words. "He's alive. I can _feel_ him. Can feel the coward crawling through my cables."

"I assure you," the voice seemed to come from up and through the glaring lights Arcee could spot two blue pinprick optics peering down from a massive shadow. Her sensors were still recalibrating and she couldn't read anything from the presence. "He is lost. They have all been lost for nearly seven hundred thousand metacycles."

No. He wasn't. Arcee would know if he were dead. Just like she knew if any of the other experiments were dead. Because Flywheels was _right_. Jhiaxus had put a piece of his energy signature in them. She could feel the part that was him pulsing in time to the other fragments of him and she could feel it- so very faintly –curling and writhing with the knowledge he was somewhere unreachable but _alive_.

He would pay for this. She was free now and she'd make sure Jhiaxus was as dead as everyone thought.

Arcee forced herself to be complacent, hoping to be released. "The others? Are you going to wake them?"

Those optics narrowed in study of her. "We found this complex not long ago. Most of the others died from system failures. Many of those that survived are in a delicate situation. Only you and few others were stable enough to reboot."

She couldn't help it, throwing her head back to bark in laughter. "_HA_! You released _them_, didn't you? Those broken fragments? Those… _gestalts_?"

"You know of them?"

"All I know is they make up a greater whole." She sneered ironically. "The use of great, of course, is purely an idiom. All they want is violence. Nothing more."

"And you?"

"I wouldn't mind violence, either. But only toward Jhiaxus. Otherwise I don't much care."

The optics grew until faceplates assembled around them and a giant mech knelt over Arcee. She recognized him- Omega Supreme, one of Nova Prime's more conservative advisors. "Are you trustworthy enough to be left on your own?"

Arcee merely grinned. Internally she held every derogatory 'you', every belittling word and tone inside to compress her hate into a blackhole that filled with her desire to track down and rip apart Jhiaxus one circuit at a time. "Of all his experiments, I'm far from one you need to concern yourself with."

Omega Supreme drew back enough so the lights obscured his chest and shoulders. "You will be given a trial period until I determine if you are fit be among our society- a duration of time known only to me. After that time period you may stay with me for as long as you like, or you may go where you will. Is that clear?"

_You have no right to decide who's fit for society or not!_ She wanted to yell at him. _You're no better than Jhiaxus, you have no authority to judge who I am when you can't even see how it is you treat me!_ But Arcee gave that whip thin smile and began calculating the best way to begin her crusade against Jhiaxus and the little fragments of himself that he left behind.

"Very well. I'm at your disposal."

* * *

Hope this helped to sort things out for other people as it did for me. And yes, I made things deliberately ambiguous at the end in regards to Thunderwing, the span of time before Arcee's Spotlight, who is still functional at the end and, of course, who the other experiments might have been (except, obviously, the Pretender Monsters) you are free to speculate. And if you're thinking I might have dropped hints alluding to other characters, I most likely thought about who you're thinking of.

Again, special thanks to Wills for betaing and Cafei for prodding me to finish.

JML: I'd probably argue that they'd relate more towards the 'superior' gender if not for the mere fact that it would allow them to be taken more seriously than otherwise. For example, supposing the cartoon took place in the early 1900's, late 1800's, do you think the government would take giant alien female robots as seriously as giant alien male robots? Though, true enough, they'd still have to fit into the parameters of that gender's behavior.

Oddly enough, in most all fandoms I've been in the general discussion forums/comms tend to be more male dominated (from what i could tell) while writing/art comms were more female dominated (also from what i could tell). Kinda makes me wonder why that is.

Tomorrow: Yeah, I think most of the problem stems from subconscious actions/thoughts, myself. Hell, I've found myself being aggressive or cold towards others without meaning to all for the fact that I... well, it's not so much an 'I'm better than them' thought as it is 'how the hell did they survive, they're so stupid' thought. I always hate it when I catch myself doing that, even if those people aggravate the hell out of me...


End file.
